


Fifteen kisses

by masongirl



Series: The morning after [4]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Public Display of Affection, Secret Relationship, Tickling, Video & Computer Games, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25355839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: Fifteen snapshots of a not-so-secret relationship.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz/Joseph Toye, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The morning after [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747177
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Fifteen kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a drabble series I posted on Tumblr. I thought I would upload it here too, now that it's complete. :)

**1\. Shy kiss**

It’s a chilly night, and Carwood misses Ron’s warmth under his blanket. He can still smell the scent of his hair on the pillow… It makes him sigh. Although he wishes Ron slept in his bed more often, he understands. Someone like him needs to ease into a relationship slowly, he can’t just let his guard down all the time. As much as he wants to push him, Carwood knows he has to let Ron come back on his own, when he’s comfortable. In the absence of the real thing, all he can do is daydream and revisit his favourite memories.

It was a strange experience, falling for someone who lived in the same house, in a room just a few feet away from his. That’s why they didn’t go on dates first, there was no need. They got to know each other by increments. Polite questions soon turned into hour-long conversations on the couch, then slow walks to the uni in the morning, and Ron’s stares kept lingering until one night, Carwood found himself sitting close enough to him that their knees touched. He trailed off and his faint smile slipped away from his face. The clock on the wall kept ticking down the seconds, but he couldn’t blink or look away. Ron’s green eyes and the dark wings of his lashes hypnotised him. His heart raced, then froze, then surged alive again, beating confusedly in his ribcage. Ron’s lips parted around a soundless exhale.

“There’s, uh -” Ron cleared his throat. “- a Pre-Raphaelite exhibition you might be interested in." 

Carwood nodded, not trusting his words. Ron’s fingertips found the back of his hand on the cushion. "Would you like to see it with me?”

He did. It was the most unique first date he has ever been on, and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Ron must have chosen the setting because he knew Carwood liked museums, but they had next to no knowledge about the paintings displayed there. It was surprisingly entertaining to discuss the artwork that way, to guess the real meaning behind each and what it intended to show. At one point, they stopped by the painting of an inconsolable woman who held a wounded, dying man in her arms, leaning in to take one last kiss. Carwood thought it was sad, but Ron disagreed.

“It could be their first kiss too.” He said, eyes stubbornly locked on the painted couple. “Look at his face. He’s happy. Do you think a man who knows what he’s losing would look like that?" 

Carwood caught Ron’s lightning quick sideways glance, but Ron’s voice remained calm and steady. "I think he went to war because he wanted to show he was worthy, and that kiss is the gift he fought for. It doesn’t matter that it’s the last. He won.”

He was talking in metaphors again. Carwood remembers that he already knew this quirk of his, could already recognise that it was a message, an offer he could either take or ignore. He took it. It wasn’t the best place or time, because the crowd wasn’t sparse and the fear of public rejection poured liquid ice into Carwood’s veins, but he closed the distance between them before he could think it through and there was no going back from there. With his fingers trembling at his side, he leaned in and pressed their lips together. 

For an eternal second, he couldn’t decide if Ron was welcoming it or not. His body froze in that hesitant, closed-lipped peck and couldn’t relax until Ron made an incredible little noise Carwood hasn’t heard ever since and pushed back. Ron’s lips were sweet and plush, nothing like his stiff posture. His palms rose to Carwood’s cheeks, then dropped away again almost as soon as they touched him, settling on his elbows instead. When he opened his mouth, Carwood dipped inside, then pulled back hastily. He didn’t want to seem desperate.

He knew his face was aflame, but he did his best to be a little flirtatious. “Did you win?”

The chime of his phone tears him out of his daydream. He picks it up and squints at the message on the screen. It’s from Ron, even though it’s past midnight and they both have lectures in the morning.

_> >Are you awake?<<_

>>Yes, why?<<

He doesn’t get an answer, but there’s a knock at his door.

**2\. French kiss**

Ron’s concept of privacy is rather arbitrary. He sharpens like a blade if someone tries to pry too deep into his life, but he feels entitled to rummage around in Carwood’s things without a second thought. You can’t keep secrets from him. It’s his most annoying habit, but there’s no malicious intent behind it. It’s not about jealousy, a need for control or anything like that - Ron is just that supremely curious. He isn’t looking for anything in particular. He doesn’t use the new information either. If Carwood hadn’t caught him in the act a few times, he wouldn’t have even noticed he was doing it. It didn’t take a long time to realise that all Ron wants is to see as much of Carwood as he can, but he hasn’t yet realised that Carwood would share everything with him willingly if only he asked. He’s getting better, but there’s still a long way to go.

They are in Huntington, visiting Carwood’s family, when Carwood catches him snooping about again. He has just come back from the kitchen with some tea - Ron’s in a glass instead of a cup because, as he claims, it satisfies him to see his drink. When Carwood walks into his room, the first thing he spots is his stack of yearbooks. He’s instantly awash with dread.

“No, no, no, put that back where you found it, please.” He all but whines as he puts the tray on his desk and plops down next to Ron on his bed. He tries to take the opened yearbook out of Ron’s hands, but Ron gives him one of his blank looks and tightens his grip.

“I want to see what you looked like as a teenager.”

“No, you really don’t.” Carwood covers his face with his palms and presses his head to Ron’s arm.

He can hear the faint sounds of pages turning, then Ron’s pleased hum. “I like this picture.”

Hesitantly, Carwood peeks out between his fingers. It’s a photo from his senior year, and he has an ear-splitting grin in it. He sighs. “It’s from a theater show. They were one person short and I wanted to help them out. It was just a small role.”

He doesn’t know what reaction he expects, but it’s not a pair of warm hands on his cheeks and a wet kiss on his lips. And certainly not Ron’s words. “You’re amazing.”

“Woah.” Carwood gasps when Ron pushes him on his back and leans over him, stroking a hand through Carwood’s hair. Carwood slides his right palm up to Ron’s shoulder. “You really did like that photo.”

“Only your expression. I want to see it again.” Ron mutters and captures Carwood’s mouth again. His tongue darts out and traces a path along the seam of Carwood’s lips, then pushes between them, parts them with a confidence that always leaves Carwood breathless. He licks inside and increases the tender pressure until Carwood stops thinking and loses himself in the sensation. They make out like that for minutes before Ron pulls back, his small, amused smile on his kissed-raw lips.

“I love you.” He says out loud.

Carwood breaks into an ear-to-ear smile he can barely contain. “I love you too.”

Triumphant, Ron thumbs at Carwood’s chin. “There it is.”

**3\. Kiss in the rain**

Ron’s stubbornness drives Carwood crazy sometimes. It’s raining buckets out there and the backyard of Carwood’s old home is nothing short of a mud pit, but Ron is out there, shovelling sloshy sand by the treeline that runs along the fence. It’s pointless - yes, they came all the way down to Huntington to help his mom install a lawn sprinkler system, but there’s no way they can finish it properly in a storm.

Carwood steps out onto the porch and yells over the splattering sound of water. “Ron, you’re going to catch a cold! Come inside already.”

Ron’s resolute expression looks almost feral. His clothes are soaked through. “I told you, I need to get this done today!”

Carwood purses his lips in frustration. He has a hunch that a part of Ron actually enjoys this. He likes fighting, throwing himself into turmoils and overcoming the impossible. Feeling wild and stripped down to his basic instincts gives him a thrill. There’s no doubt he thinks he’s a bit of a barbarian from ancient times right now, with the thunder roaring above him and the trees shaking in the wind, his rubber boots sunk into the mud. He might fantasize about waging battle in a misty German forest with every shovelful he digs out.

“Why do you make me do this?” Carwood mutters and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He grabs his own tool and walks out into the rain. His worn trainers all but suck the water inside to wet his socks, and he hates Ron a little more with every sticky step.

As soon as Carwood starts working beside him, Ron stops. His eyes stare a hole through Carwood’s head. “What are you doing?”

Carwood crosses his arms on the handle of his shovel and gives Ron a nonchalant look. “You said we should finish it today.”

He can almost see Ron’s gears working on the conundrum - _how to keep working but get Carwood out of the rain?_ \- so, he makes his point a bit more persuasive. He coughs.

“Fine.” Ron snaps immediately. He steps close to Carwood and pries the shovel out of his hold. “We’re going inside.”

The corners of Carwood’s lips curl up. He leans forward between the two wooden handles and gives Ron a kiss. His fingers run through the dripping wet curls hanging over Ron’s forehead and tuck them away from Ron’s face. Ron’s lips are icy cold, but as he relaxes and presses back, the warmth of his mouth seems to radiate through Carwood’s body all the way to his heart.

**4\. Kiss on the forehead**

Even Ron’s invincible immune system has to take a day off sometimes. He does his best to cover it up, but even through the gap between the door jamb and the barely opened bedroom door, it’s obvious. His usually squared shoulders are hunched and his elbows stay pressed to his sides. Although he pretends he can hold an open, relaxed posture, Carwood can see he has to white-knuckle the doorframe to keep from hugging himself as shiver after shiver runs through his body.

“Carwood.” Ron croaks, hell-bent on keeping the facade up. Under his frown, his eyes are fever-shiny and his cheeks are flushed. “Did we discuss going out today?”

“No. I just missed you, I haven’t seen you all day.” Carwood says gently. They did have a ‘date’ planned, sort of, nothing much, just watching a movie in the living room, but he isn’t going to remind Ron of that. The way he is, he’ll probably insist they do it even though he’s ready to keel over.

“I’m sorry.” Ron mumbles. “We can eat breakfast together tomorrow.”

Carwood curls his hand around the pale column of Ron’s neck. Ron’s skin is furnace hot under his palm. “You’re burning up.”

“It will pass.” Ron says, even as he leans into the touch.

“Let me get you some paracetamol.” Carwood strokes Ron’s shoulder. It worries him a little when Ron doesn’t protest, just nods with lethargic sluggishness. He could do with a cup of tea too. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As he draws his hand back, he feels a tremor Ron can’t quite suppress course under his fingertips. He stops in his tracks and, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, he strips his sweater off. He knows Ron likes to find comfort in taking his things - it might help this time too. Although he wants to pull it over Ron’s head himself, he keeps his mother hen instincts in check and just pushes it into Ron’s hand. He’s pleased to see Ron’s fingers clench in the thick material.

“Just a second.” Carwood repeats and presses a kiss to Ron’s scalding forehead. If Ron lets him, he’ll cuddle him to sleep after he comes back.

**5\. Drunk kiss**

Carwood doesn’t know how Nix managed to convince Ron to go out drinking with him, but he suspects the shiny Rolex Ron keeps pressing to his chest had something to do with it. Ron grabs his hand and tries to curl his fingers around it. “Yours. It’s yours.”

“I don’t need a new watch.” Carwood slips his arm around Ron’s waist and guides him to his bed. Not that he needs too much support - Ron is a slow, but mostly coordinated drunk, unlike George, who stumbles around as if he has never seen a floor before and talks your ears off. No, in theory, Ron can take care of himself. What wasted Ron lacks, however, is the same thing sober Ron mastered over the years and polished into intentional aloofness. Emotion regulation.

“I want you to have it.” Ron breathes as Carwood sits him down. He fists his hands in Carwood’s shirt and clings on. “I won it for you.”

Carwood places the watch on Ron’s bedside table. “Thank you.”

“Carwood. Carwood.” Ron tugs at his arms, insistent as always, until Carwood crouches in front of him. Then, he breaks into a smile brighter than the summer sun, with a purity his sober self hides so deep inside that the world can only see its shadow. He loops his arms around Carwood’s neck. “I’m happy.”

“I can see that.”

Ron’s hold tightens, and he tilts forward to kiss Carwood square on the mouth. Between one sloppy wet kiss and the next, he pulls a silver pen out of his right pocket. “I’ll get you the best things.”

Shaking his head, Carwood puts the pen beside the watch. When he turns back, Ron has a single golden cufflink in his hand, Nix’s initials engraved into it. Carwood laughs. “Did you take all of Nix’s valuables?”

“I know how to play my cards right.” Ron whispers, and raises his free hand to Carwood’s face. He traces Carwood’s smile with his thumb, then dips down again and gives him another damp kiss, holding onto Carwood’s shoulders like he wants to pull him into bed and fuse their lips together. When Carwood’s lips part, he makes a content noise. He slides ever closer with all the neediness he never lets show when he’s sober, despite how it thrums under the surface in every caress and every stare.

Carwood uses the distraction to fish the other cufflink out of Ron’s back pocket. If he asks, Ron might give them back to Nix tomorrow. At least, one can hope, right?

**6\. Kiss on the neck**

Carwood doesn’t think he’s a scary man. He isn’t particularly big or loud, and his friends say he’s one of the nicest people they know. It’s a challenge to recall any instances when he scared someone, even by accident. He doesn’t barge into rooms without knocking, and neither does he like participating in pranks. Therefore, he’s completely taken aback when he walks up behind his boyfriend to kiss his neck and the brush of lips against his skin startle Ron into dropping his phone.

Carwood is at a loss for words. Did something happen that upset Ron? Does he want to be left alone today?

He waits until Ron bends down and checks if the device is broken before he speaks. “Are you okay?”

Ron straightens, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt. It’s one of his nervous gestures. He glances over his shoulder. “Yes.”

When nothing else comes forth, Carwood steps closer and looks at the screen. Thankfully, it’s intact, the carpet softened its fall. Ron doesn’t seem bothered by his presence beside him or the hand coming down gently on his upper arm, so there must be something else going on. Carwood hates to be suspicious, but the logical conclusion is that there’s something in that phone that Ron doesn’t want him to see. To encourage Ron to trust him, he lowers his mouth again and presses a tender kiss to the skin under Ron’s ear. 

Ron flinches again. He shoots Carwood a hard stare. “What are you doing?”

Ice fills Carwood’s chest. He’s hurt. “Just kissing you.”

Ron blinks, which only serves to build Carwood’s utter confusion. Did he expect some ulterior motive or what? “Okay.”

When Ron turns back to his phone, just the slightest bit, but he leans into Carwood’s embrace. He unlocks the screen and reveals his Facebook. One by one, he deletes all of his “friends” who liked the page of a certain political party. Carwood doubts he would want to keep _that_ a secret, which leaves him without guesses. Clueless, he raises his hand and strokes the back of his fingers down from Ron’s nape to the knob of his spine. Ron’s shoulders twitch.

Carwood lowers his palm to Ron’s back. “You don’t like it when I touch your neck?”

For the longest few seconds, Ron is silent. Then, he puts his phone on his desk and squares his jaw, scowling at the window of his room. “If you do it too lightly, it tickles.”

“Tickles?” Carwood’s mouth wobbles into a lopsided smile.

“I’m not used to… being kissed there.”

God. There’s still a lot he needs to teach Ron about affection. He wraps both of his arms around Ron’s stiff body and trails his lips from his ear to his pulse point. Ron doesn’t make any noise, but his breath keeps hitching - he suppresses his laughter. 

Carwood grins. “You won’t get away until you let go.”

Ron leans his head against Carwood’s. “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be today then.”

**7\. Stolen kiss**

Carwood doesn’t know what woke him up, the heat or Ron’s fingers closing around his wrist, but he’s still floating in the languid, fuzzy state between awareness and dreams when Ron uses that grip to lift his arm and slides out of his embrace. Before the warmth of his body could seep away from the sheets, he wraps the blanket around Carwood’s shoulders and tucks it in under his hand. As if it wasn’t already cosy enough when it pooled around his waist. 

Wishing he could make his striped PJs disappear, Carwood tries to chase a shadow of the sweet dream he was torn out of. As Ron’s steps fade away towards the door, he smiles to himself and shifts his head closer to the empty pillow on the other side of his small bed, where the scent still lingers. At which point did it start to make him fond that Ron tries to move back to his own room like a ghost?

But the lock of Carwood’s door doesn’t click open, the air in the room doesn’t change. It’s the whoosh of fabric that drifts into his ears instead. All traces of sleepiness vanish from his mind to make place for his rising curiosity. He opens his eyes to slits and spots Ron standing half-naked in front of his closet, taking various garments out and then meticulously folding them again. When he finds something he likes, he pauses and raises it to his face.

_Is he sniffing them?_ Carwood thinks, surprised. He knew Ron had a tendency to borrow his things without asking, but he hasn’t seen him in action yet. This is something George would add to his growing list of ‘creepy quirks that should send Lip running’, but Carwood understands. He’d do the exact same thing if he wasn’t so shy about stepping over boundaries. To be honest, he isn’t sure if Ron has any of those within their relationship. It feels as though Carwood has fought his way into Ron’s castle and now, in Ron’s head, that space is for both of them. Carwood has a feeling that Ron might even want him to dig deeper.

Sighing, Ron makes his decision. He slips a green shirt over his arms and starts buttoning it up, facing the mirror. Carwood watches as the muscles of his lean torso disappear and the first signs of alert stiffness straightens his shoulders. Another day begins. Ron combs his fingers through his unruly bedhead, then runs his palm over the front of the shirt and turns back to the bed.

It’s only Carwood’s luck that he doesn’t get caught staring - Ron rubs his eyes while he yawns, and it gives him that split second he needs to fake sleep again. He keeps his breathing slow and regular even though his heart is pounding from the thrill of tricking Ron, of getting away with it. The rustle of Ron’s trousers approaches and stops right there by the mattress. For a long minute, there’s only silence and the weight of Ron’s stare, then his exhales, close enough to brush Carwood’s skin. Ron presses a kiss to his temple, then rushes out of the room before Carwood could decide whether to give himself away or not.

**8\. Angry kiss + 9. Apologetic kiss**

Ron pushes Carwood against the door and holds him there, squeezing his hips. He tightens his grip until it feels bruising. Carwood is no fragile flower, but the rough treatment doesn’t feel good. It infuriates him. Why couldn’t they finish this discussion calmly? He’s kissed so hard his head knocks into the wood behind his back, and his lips throb. Fuming, he digs his fingertips into Ron’s shoulders as if they were claws, and Ron hisses into the kiss, then bites Carwood’s bottom lip. _Fuck you,_ Carwood thinks, although he’d never say that out loud, and bites him back. 

Ron growls and hits the door next to Carwood’s left shoulder as he pulls away. “Why do you let them use you? Why?”

“I’m just _helping them.”_ Carwood hisses.

Ron looks pained. The lightning bolts of rage in his eyes die out as the fight leaves him like a dissipating storm. He knows it’s futile to argue when Carwood has set his mind on something. He drops his forehead to Carwood’s in frustration.

“You’re naive if you think they would return it.” He mutters.

Carwood is steaming from the way his fiery anger and the cold stream of sadness in his heart clash. “I don’t need them to.”

Ron wrenches himself away and paces a frustrated circle in the middle of Carwood’s room before he comes to a stop in front of Carwood again. He tries to stare Carwood down for a minute or two, then deflates. What a rare sight - Ron Speirs accepting defeat. If only Carwood could feel any triumph.

When he licks his aching bottom lip, Ron’s gaze zones in on the motion. Ron frowns. “Did I hurt you?”

Carwood considers saying no, but he knows Ron prefers honesty, even if it’s unpleasant. “A little.”

With an apologetic tenderness in his eyes, Ron puts his palms on Carwood’s chest and slides them up to his shoulders, then cups his cheeks. His voice sounds unbearably gentle. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Carwood whispers, but he’s not. He’s not okay. The fight left him bruised, drained and feeling like a terrible person. Someone who’s kept around only as long as he’s useful, because his selflessness is just a special kind of stupidity. He knows some people take advantage of him, but it’s so hard to draw the line at small favours. “I’m sorry too.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I bit you.”

“I didn’t mind.” Of course. God forbid he admit Carwood isn’t a complete angel. Ron’s poker face could have been carved from steel.

Carwood sighs and wraps his arms around Ron’s waist. “I’m sorry anyway.”

He gives Ron’s bruised lips the softest kiss he can manage and swears to do better next time.

**10\. Goodbye kiss**

When they can, he and Ron walk to school together in the morning. It takes about twenty minutes to reach campus on foot, but it’s through a quiet park, and the fresh air of all that greenery always perks Carwood up. Ron doesn’t care much about birdsong or the lack of exhaust gas, but he can’t stand public transport and driving isn’t an option, since the university’s parking lot is a nightmare. He’d rather take a detour than chance getting trapped in unpleasant small talk on the bus. This walk was one of the first things they’ve bonded over.

Before they started spending some time alone, Ron always appeared taciturn and enigmatic, like a shadow skirting on the edges of their household. He didn’t tend to socialise more than the bare minimum, save for a few sharp or cryptic remarks that had Nix’s eyes rolling, but Carwood never doubted that there was more to him. He was right. Although it’s unlikely that Ron would ever become a stand-up comedian, he not only enjoys long, meaningful conversations, he likes to pepper some of his strange humour into them. He’s an excellent partner to talk to if you get through the moat of unfriendliness surrounding his core.

Today, however, is not a good one. The wind feels arctic cold as it ruffles the orange-red autumn foliage, and Carwood’s thin hair cries for a hat. A flock of ducks quack away into the bushes as he and Ron walk around the shallow ponds of rainwater gathered in the pathway’s cracks. Carwood is lost in thought. He can’t get over the fight they had yesterday. It eats at him. He was affronted that Ron all but called him a fool for helping some of his classmates with an assignment and for staying up until dawn. His conscience didn’t let him just straight up give them the answers, but he thought the decent thing to do was to guide them. Now that he thinks about it with a clear head, he knows he should have looked out for himself instead. Was an offhand “thanks, dude” worth his exhaustion and Ron’s anger? Not in the slightest.

Carwood has to work on this issue. For himself. He can’t give all he has away to people who don’t appreciate it when there’s at least one person who does. And he doesn’t want another fight like that. They were both so frustrated that they didn’t know how to deal with their pent-up emotions. Ron tried channelling it into physical contact, but, even though Carwood likes to be bitten during heated moments, there was nothing enjoyable in that emotional state. 

“You were right. I shouldn’t have wasted my night on them.” He tells Ron when they reach the first university building, and brushes their fingers together. He knows Ron understands what he means.

Predictably, Ron stiffens at the touch and puts his hand in his coat pocket, then, after glaring a random woman on the street into submission, he pulls it out again. He curls it around Carwood’s elbow instead of holding his hand. “Did you tell them what I suggested?”

Carwood sighs. Threatening them with a visit from his boyfriend would have taken it a step too far. “I said I couldn’t help them anymore and asked them to leave me alone, then muted their messages.”

“Good.” Ron smiles and stops as they reach the intersection where they usually part. "It was the right decision.“

He looks up at the pale, pink-blue sky and closes his eyes for a slow blink. The breeze strokes through his hair and blows the waves of his curls into motion, up and down and then over his forehead. Ron’s hand slips down to Carwood’s forearm, but stops above his wrist. Ron turns his shiny green gaze on Carwood and glances at his lips, then back up, and just this once, Carwood wishes they weren’t so tentative about PDA.

"I can walk you to your building.” Ron offers, angling to get another five minutes of silence and brief little touches, even though he’s well aware that they will be able to kiss each other stupid back home in about eight hours.

Carwood craves affection to soak up the lingering sadness from last night, but he knows this is just stalling. They have places to be. “It’s fine, Ron. Have a nice day.”

He presses his dry lips to Ron’s for a split second he can’t deny himself, then steps away before he could embarrass Ron by clinging to him in public. They wouldn’t know how to deal with that yet.

**11\. Awkward kiss**

When Carwood arrives home after his tedious day of lectures, he finds Ron lounging in the reading nook under the stairs. He’s on his back, one leg dangling down, the other bent and propping up a book. He must have changed since he came back from campus, because his dress shirt and dark trousers have been replaced by a pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeved henley. Excluding his work-out clothes, it’s probably the most casual outfit he could find in his closet. Raising an eyebrow, Carwood nudges Ron’s foot to make room and settles on the cushions next to him. 

Ron sits up and tosses his book aside. He brushes Carwood’s cold-bitten cheek with his thumb, then follows the caress with a kiss. “How was your day?”

“Not too bad.” Carwood replies, frowning in surprise. It’s not like Ron to be this sweet without a little coaxing. If Carwood’s guess is right, he’s trying to make up for something. Perhaps for his inability to handle affection in public like a normal person.

Rather than continuing the conversation, Ron leans forward and kisses Carwood’s jaw, his chin and the skin under his lips, then trails upward until they are kissing properly, breaths mingling in the humid space between their mouths. He puts his left palm on Carwood’s thigh and massages the muscle. This is the point where Carwood should suggest they move things upstairs, but before he could speak, Ron slows the kiss back to close-mouthed, chaste brushes of their lips. When Carwood huffs through his nose, Ron gets back on track and presses forward with his usual passion, but a few seconds later, he moves away again in a strange rhythm that doesn’t make any sense. Does he want to take it further or not?

_Come on,_ Carwood thinks as he cups the back of Ron’s neck to keep him close, but instead of giving in, Ron closes his mouth. Carwood leans away and frowns at him in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Ron’s expression is closer to remorseful than innocent. His fingers clench and loosen in the air above Carwood’s leg. “Nothing." 

What on Earth? He’s giving Carwood flashbacks to his fumbling high school days. "Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Ron nods, but seems to think better of denying it after all and straightens up instead. “I didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

Ah, crap. Carwood should have known that Ron wouldn’t let it go, that pointless fight. If he’s still thinking about it, the fact that he caused Carwood pain will keep bothering him until he’s thoroughly reassured he hasn’t ruined anything. 

“Ron, a rougher kiss won’t break me.” Carwood tells him quietly, but the sound of a key turning in the front door stops him there. He squeezes Ron’s hand and stands up before they could get caught. “Let’s go up to my room and I’ll show you.”

Ron takes a deep breath and nods.

**12.** **Steamy kiss**

Ron’s eyes are closed and his eyebrows are drawn together, curving up in the middle as he makes a helpless noise and comes into Carwood’s lube-slick hand. His chest rises and falls rapidly with every shaky breath, and his nipples are hard and pebbled when Carwood leans down to take one into his mouth. The stretched-out minutes of futile struggle to reach his peak spread a flush over Ron’s skin, and it’s pouring heat like an oven now. It makes Ron slippery from sweat. Carwood can almost hear the frantic rhythm of Ron’s heartbeat when he takes it a step further, stroking beyond the last shudders because he knows Ron enjoys that edge of pain with his pleasure, likes overstimulation until he softens completely. Ron’s fingertips press into the bulging muscles of Carwood’s shoulders to hold on with all the desperation his total loss of control brings. He rarely lets his defences down enough for Carwood to do this - to spread him out naked while he himself stays clothed and then tease him to the brink and back until Ron stops trying to guide him and just lets it happen. Ron so utterly vulnerable is the most gorgeous thing. If only he could see it more often. 

As Carwood’s lips make their way up to Ron’s jaw, Ron grips his wrist to still him. “I can’t, I can’t take any more.”

Carwood takes his hand away immediately, and just like that, Ron’s back in control again. He runs a hand through his dark hair and blows a long breath out through his mouth. 

“You continue to surprise me, Carwood.” He says. His voice has already fallen back to its normal pitch and somewhat clipped tone, but the strain of being denied over and over again is still audible in his words. As is his delight that he fought through it and got his reward. “One day, you might even make me beg.”

Carwood gives him a fond smile. Ronald Speirs begging? That’ll be the day. 

Ron takes that smile as his cue to wrap his arms around Carwood’s neck, drag him down and then roll them around until he’s on top. He presses his lips to Carwood’s and kisses him deeply, using his tongue and teeth and force, invading Carwood’s mouth like he wants to take no prisoners. His hands roam up and down Carwood’s stomach under his shirt, then dive into Carwood’s pants. His stubble stings as his jaw rubs against Carwood’s chin, but it’s a good burn that makes Carwood sigh into the kiss. Ron nips his bottom lip before he pulls back. 

The sheen of wetness in his eyes has been replaced by a wolfish glint. “Your turn.”

**13.** **Seductive kiss**

Seduction isn’t Carwood’s forte, and he never knows how to deal with it either. He and Ron are quite straightforward, the most they have ever done was a little teasing, some coy smiles. Carwood doesn’t have the slightest idea how to even begin pulling Ron’s attention away from something he’s focused on without irritating him. Why did he agree to this? George puts him up to the most embarrassing things. _Sit on his lap,_ right. Did George stop to consider the difference between their sizes? Carwood is considerably bigger than him - moreover, he’s bulkier than Ron too. The chair might collapse if he attempted to straddle his boyfriend in it.

But, well, it has been a week. Seven days of nothing but quick good morning pecks and a rushed hug. Carwood craves Ron’s affection now, and George wants to have at least a chance at winning the bet he made with him. This must work. They _need_ it to work. So, face already aflame, Carwood tiptoes into Ron’s room.

“What is it?” Ron asks promptly, knowing full well that the only person who dares enter his room is Carwood.

“Nothing.” Carwood smiles, but Ron can’t see it because he doesn’t look away from his laptop screen. 

He’s determined to win that stupid bet, that much is clear, his shoulders are rigid from concentration. Since Ron finds it harder to focus in a stuffy space, the window is wide open and the curtains flutter languidly in the breeze. He’s still in the crisp dress shirt he wore to school today, but it’s buttoned only halfway now, and an enticing patch of his chest is bare. Although Carwood isn’t sure how to go about this, he knows that the best way of surprising Ron is by touch, so he listens to his instincts and puts his hands on Ron’s shoulders. It’s barely noticeable, but Ron startles.

“Shh.” Carwood leans down to press their heads together. He strokes Ron’s arms, then hugs him and slips his left palm into the V of the open shirt. Ron has a mole right between his collarbones, and he circles that with his thumb, dipping into the hollow above it. 

Ron swallows, but keeps interacting with the screen. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No.” Carwood snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would I be sick?”

To his great surprise, Ron presses the pause button. He seems flustered for making a mistaken assumption. “I don’t know. Do you want to watch me play? I’m about to usurp the throne.”

Carwood doesn’t know the first thing about this game - Crusader Kings, if he remembers George’s explanation right - but he knows that the goal is to get Ron away from it for a little while. A break would do him some good too, he seems terribly sleep-deprived. George bet him fifty bucks that he and Joe could make their character the king of England sooner and, of course, Ron couldn’t say no to a competition. He seems to be winning by a mile though, he can afford to take a step back.

“No.” Carwood whispers into Ron’s ear. “I want something else.”

Ron untangles himself from the embrace and swivels around, watching Carwood with his red-rimmed, tired eyes. His hair is messy on the left side, he must have propped his head up on his hand. “Do you?”

Carwood puts his hand on the right side of Ron’s neck and kisses him, softly at first, with only a sweep of his lips, then a little deeper after each breath. He curls his fingers, and the light drag of his nails makes Ron hum. The tension seeps out of Ron’s body as if a dream was tugging him into sleep, but he barrels through his exhaustion and grabs for Carwood’s hips to make him sit on his lap. Carwood almost laughs, thinking of George’s advice. 

“Have a nap with me, hm?” He kisses into Ron’s cheek and straightens. Ron nods and follows him to the bed, where he falls asleep almost as soon as Carwood has snuggled up behind him and doesn’t stir when a kiss brushes his neck. Around them, the soundtrack of his strategy game drones on. Joe and George got a few hours to catch up.

**14\. Eskimo kiss**

The bed thunks against the wall, and a book is knocked off Ron’s bedside table by a flailing arm. Twin spots of pain bloom in Carwood’s sides from laughter. He grabs Ron’s pillow and throws it at him, but Ron dodges, and it smacks a water bottle off the desk. It lands on the floor with a heavy thud, and the mattress squeaks as Ron throws himself on it and straddles Carwood’s squirming body. 

They are wrestling. There’s a vague warning in Carwood’s mind, something that tells him this is not the best idea, but he feels _so good,_ so happy, that he doesn’t care. They went clubbing with their friends, but after his second shot, Carwood slunk off with Luz, because he’s always fun to be around and Ron wasn’t. By the time Ron found him again, he and George had a few more drinks than they should have, and they were plotting something phenomenal Carwood can’t even recall right now. Ron called an Uber immediately, but Carwood didn’t want to leave, so. Wrestling.

He can’t remember when he started to enjoy it, but he’s having a great time now, and the most amusing thing is that Ron never expects him to fight dirty. Carwood tries to buck him off, and when that doesn’t work, he frees one of his arms and reaches for Ron’s neck. Ron gasps. He manages to squeeze the attacking hand between his head and his shoulder, but it’s still close enough that Carwood’s forefinger touches that ticklish spot. With his eyes shut, Ron bursts into an involuntary fit of snickering. His smile is so wide it etches crow’s feet into his skin.

There’s a knock at the door.

Startled, Carwood drops his hand, and Ron’s eyes sharpen as his head whips around. The change in his expression happens in the blink of an eye - his brows knit together into a frown and his lips flatten as if someone cut the strings pulling them up. It’s hilarious. Carwood tries to keep his amusement inside, but God, he’s so bad at this when he’s drunk, the giggles just bubble out of him like a cascade. 

_“Shh.”_ Ron gives him a lopsided smile and puts a finger on his lips, then turns again. 

“What?” He barks, but his scowl melts into another smile when Carwood nips at his fingertip. He presses on both of Carwood’s shoulders, holding him firmly pinned to the mattress, and leans close to his face. “Stay quiet.”

Carwood nods and raises his head an inch to rub his nose to Ron’s. Back and forth, up and down against the tip. He just wants to amuse himself with Ron’s reaction, but he ends up convinced that Ron must be at least tipsy too because he nuzzles back. 

“Uh, it’s me, Tom,” comes from the door.

It’s their nerdy law student flatmate, Peacock, and he sounds scared as hell. Carwood closes his eyes, because if his gaze meets Ron’s now, he’s going to burst into laughter for sure. 

“What do you want?” Ron asks curtly. His right palm rubs circles on Carwood’s chest to keep him calm and to avoid a drunken outburst.

“Have you seen Lip by any chance? I’d like to borrow his grater.” Peacock explains timidly.

“I haven’t seen him.” Ron lies without batting an eye. That ease should probably make Carwood worry, but he just loses it again. He does his best to muffle it with both of his hands, but it just distorts the sound into a mix of whimpers and wheezes. His eyes water.

“Oh, okay. I just thought I heard his voice. Sorry for interrupting your, um…” Peacock trails off, no doubt wondering about the ruckus coming from Ron’s usually quiet bedroom. What could he be thinking? “See you later!”

Carwood barely makes it to five seconds before he goes boneless and just giggles at the ceiling like an idiot. Ron uses the bottled water to wet his hands a little, then he presses them to Carwood’s face.

“You’re lucky I love your laugh,” he sighs.

**15\. Surprise kiss**

Contrary to what Nix believes, Ron knows how to be affectionate. It's a side of him few people get to see and appreciate because he doesn't trust easily - his parents broke that natural openness in him through years of a cold, unhappy childhood. He learnt to keep his vulnerability hidden. Therefore, Carwood realised early on that their relationship would never be as publicly loving as some others are or, at least, it would take more time to get there. It's fine, he doesn't mind. They can still have fun together with their friends even if they sit on completely different sides of a table and don't share inside jokes every other minute like George and Joe. 

At times, it does get a bit frustrating though. Today, they all went down to the beach as a group - their entire flat, George, Joe and Tab's current girlfriend. Under the clear blue sky, the water provided soothing relief from the sweltering sunshine, and they spent an hour or so horsing around among the waves, splashing each other's faces and interrupting Tab's attempts to romance his girl. His constant flirting made Carwood jealous. He wanted to touch Ron like that but didn't dare do it in front of so many people. It was a welcome distraction when they finally got out to play volleyball in the warm sand.

Their teams are quite evenly matched. Dick got Peacock and Tab on his, likely because Ron wanted to challenge him plain as day and called dibs on Carwood, and they got George. It's a good way to split their group - Peacock's clumsiness and George's wandering attention cost about the same number of points, and the chemistry between Dick and Tab is almost enough to balance Ron's vicious attacks. Meanwhile, Nix, Joe and the girl fawning over Tab sit in the shade, sipping cocktails and smirking behind their sunglasses.

"Joe, you're supposed to be my cheerleader!" George exclaims when he manages to score for the first time and Joe doesn't even move a muscle. "Did you at least document this historic moment on film?"

"So am I a cheerleader or a cameraman?" Joe calls back in a flat tone, obediently raising his phone to record the next serve.

"Multitask." George laughs and, to no one's surprise, botches the next point.

Nevertheless, their team wins against Dick's excellent skills. When the ball lands in the sand at the end of the game and kicks that last point in, George crows in joy and skips over to Carwood to give him a double high five. He rushes past Ron too, even dares ruffling Ron's hair in his boundless excitement, then throws himself down beside Joe to look at the pictures. Nix tells Dick he'd buy him a drink if that helped him get over the sore loss, and Tab starts playing against Peacock one-on-one to impress his girl. Carwood's cheeks ache from his sunburn and the wideness of his smile. He takes his tank top off and tucks it into the pocket of his swim trunks, craving the cool water again, but he doesn't even make it to the shade because Ron loops an arm around his neck, pulls him in and presses their lips together.

Ron kisses him in front of everyone, outside, in the open, as if they've done this a thousand times before.

"Oh, wow." George coughs when Ron strokes his hand down Carwood's bare chest as he pulls away. 

They are all shocked, even those who knew, _even Carwood himself,_ but Ron pays them no mind. He points at Dick and gives him a toothy, ferocious grin. 

"Winters, ready for a rematch?"

_~End~_


End file.
